and anticipated some fun, knowing that in their eagerness they would
forget that the shots had not had time to cool. Two men in advance of
the rest picked up the balls, and, uttering a cry, dropped them quickly,
rubbing and blowing their hands. The remainder stood patiently waiting,
and then, after a time, spent evidently in deliberation, two men placed
the shot on their heads, and all in a body moved off towards the
commissariat quarters to receive and divide the reward.

_July 7_.--On the morning of July 7, I accompanied a detachment of 150
men under command of a Captain to relieve the picket at the mound close
to the ruins of Sir Theophilus Metcalfe's house. This mansion, built by
the present baronet's father, was situated about 1,200 yards from the
walls of the city, and surrounded by trees and gardens. At the outbreak
of May 11, it had been plundered and burnt by the mutinous sepoys and
_badmashes_, who also in like manner had destroyed every house belonging
to the Europeans in the suburbs of Delhi and the adjoining cantonment.
Of the murders that then took place I shall have something to say
hereafter, when writing the history of a young school-fellow whose
sister was killed by the insurgents.

From our position on picket we could see a short distance in front, the
ground having been partially cleared of trees and undergrowth. A chain
of double sentries was posted, and the utmost vigilance observed. We
could hear the batteries opening on the ridge, while occasionally, as if
to harass the picket, a 13-inch shell would burst either in our front or
in our rear. The night passed quickly, and at daybreak, when visiting
the sentries, I heard distinctly the bugles of the rebels sounding the
reveille, succeeded by other familiar calls. It seemed strange to hear
our own bugle-calls sounded by men who were now our enemies; and not
only was this the case, but also the insurgents for some time wore the